keeping up the species is done later 

 on by tiny, inconspicuous flowers on 

 siiort stems or runners and usually 

 concealed among the leaves. These 

 flowers never open, but from little 

 pods filled with seed, which split open 

 in autumn, in several cases not till 

 November, shoot in spirited fashion 

 the little seeds hundreds of times their 

 own length away. Thus they germi- 

 nate and grow, showing in the follow- 

 ing spring the blue familiar faces we 

 love so well. 



' I love all things the seasons bring, 

 All buds that start, all birds that sing, 



All leaves from white to jet, 

 All the sweet words that summer sends. 

 When she recalls her flowery friends. 



But chief — the violet I 



' I love, how much I love the rose, 

 On whose soft lips the south wind blows, 



In pretty amorous threat ; 

 The lily paler than the moon, 

 The odorous, wondrous month of June, 



Yet more — the violet I 



51 



